


Hold

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Blood, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Knotting, Licking, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-21 18:23:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8255777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: "It’s too much. It’s always too much, right at the beginning." Ken is pushy and Chikusa lets himself be pushed.





	

It always hurts at the very beginning.

That’s something Chikusa resigned himself to long ago, during the first handful of times he let Ken push him down against the tangle of the other’s bedsheets or the somewhat tidier lines of Chikusa’s own and fit his knees in hard against the open angle of Chikusa’s legs. It’s true that things are helped by the liberal use of lubrication, if Chikusa is tasked with preparation, or the slick drag of Ken’s tongue, if it falls to the other; but there’s still that first spike of pressure, sharp and unavoidable, as Ken takes his first thrust forward and stalls out with the swollen knot at the base of his cock forcing hard against the resistance of Chikusa’s body. Chikusa always tightens against the pressure -- he can’t help it, the reaction is too involuntary to catch back -- but that just makes Ken groan appreciation behind him, makes him mumble something about “You’re so _tight_ , Kaki-pii,” and then he’s leaning in closer until the sweat-stick of his skin presses against Chikusa’s bare shoulderblades, until his mouth can drag wet and hot at the back of Chikusa’s neck, and Chikusa resigns himself to surrender in the moment before Ken’s mouth comes open and his teeth catch and dig hard against the soft skin at the top of Chikusa’s spine. The electricity that comes with the force is immediate, spiking all down Chikusa’s body with the sudden, panicked adrenaline of vulnerability; and his body relaxes all at once, giving over his reflexive panic at the press of Ken’s cock inside him for a stronger instinct of complete submission to the teeth pressing hard against the delicate bones at the back of his neck. Chikusa’s pulse spikes, his breathing stalls; and behind him Ken growls low, the sound muffled against his skin, and bucks forward to sink himself into the tension of Chikusa’s body under him.

It’s too much. It’s always too much, right at the beginning; Chikusa tenses involuntarily against the force, as if the surge of strain that ripples through him isn’t precisely the wrong reaction to have to the stretch of Ken pushing him open. It is, of course; the pressure just makes Ken feel wider, just makes the pressure ache the more sharply up Chikusa’s spine, and besides the friction is enough to drag a purr from the back of Ken’s throat and rock his hips forward in a short, reflexive thrust as his knot swells to lock them tighter together. Chikusa’s mouth comes open on a groan without the air to flesh it out to audibility, his hands tighten to press against the bed in some half-formed thought of pulling away; and Ken growls against his neck, his jaw tightening to dig the point of one tooth past Chikusa’s skin before he shakes the other by a half-inch, the movement short and sharp and dangerous in a way that saps all Chikusa’s fight reflex from his veins. Chikusa goes limp immediately, his body sagging boneless to the sheets, and behind him Ken makes a low sound of satisfaction and slides one knee wider against the inside of Chikusa’s thigh.

“You feel _good_ ,” he says, except that his teeth are still bracing at Chikusa’s neck so the words fall stretched wide to incoherence, to sound Chikusa can only understand because he’s heard them so often in this same setting. Ken’s hips rock back by an inch, a tiny pull of motion Chikusa can feel tug inside him as the pressure shifts and settles more firmly into place, and then he’s pushing forward again, fucking into the other with the choppy rhythm that’s the most he can manage with their bodies pinned together as they are. After a moment he lets his grip at the back of Chikusa’s neck go and replaces the weight of his teeth with the overheated pant of his breathing instead, but Chikusa doesn’t try to pull away; it’ll only make the pressure worse, he knows, he doesn’t stand a chance of breaking free now that Ken has well and truly knotted him. All he can do is lie still and submissive under the weight of Ken’s body bearing down on his, and breathe hard against the sheets under him, and feel low down in the depths of his stomach the weight of heat starting to form with each of Ken’s thrusts forward, as if the stretch of the other’s cock against his body is swelling to press uncomfortable desire out into all the rest of him as well.

“Does it feel good?” Ken wants to know. His hand slips to brace hard at Chikusa’s hip, his nails tense to dig in against the other’s skin; Chikusa thinks he can feel the rough edges of them tearing blood-deep, thinks he can feel tiny crescents of pain blossoming against the edge of his hip like flowers. Ken’s mouth lands at the back of his neck again, gusting a lungful of hot air over his skin for a moment before his tongue catches to lick up the side of Chikusa’s neck, to drag away the salty bite of sweat and replace it with the wet heat of the other’s mouth on him. “Hey, Kaki-pii, do you like it?” The hand at his hip eases, slipping against the few droplets of blood Ken’s nails have drawn to shove under the weight of Chikusa’s body on the mattress, to fumble out across the tension of the other’s stomach. Chikusa can feel his shoulders tense, can feel his body flex tighter in bracing anticipation; and then Ken’s fingers find his cock, the other’s fingernails catching and dragging for traction, and Ken makes a low sound of absolute satisfaction and shoves forward as deep into Chikusa as he can go.

“Ken,” Chikusa starts, aiming for a warning and hearing it come out as a plea; but it doesn’t make a difference anyway, Ken’s fingers are already curling hard around his cock and jerking up with clumsy enthusiasm. The friction makes Chikusa’s spine arch, makes his legs flex hard against the sheets, and behind him Ken groans breathless satisfaction as the force of Chikusa’s reaction clenches around the resistance of his cock.

“ _Ah_ ,” he pants, “ _Kaki-pii_ ” and he’s moving again, rocking the movement of his hips into a frantic speed that Chikusa can feel pulling hard inside him with every stroke the other takes. He clutches at the sheets under him, struggling for some fixed point to press himself against; but the resistance just makes the force of Ken moving in him stronger, just makes it feel like every thrust the other takes is a fight between the two of them for control over Chikusa’s body that Chikusa is losing as soon as it begins. His chest is straining for air, his lungs protesting the effort as if they’re feeling the pressure as clearly as the rest of him; and behind him Ken is still moving, rocking through motions rough with instinct and speeding on rising desire.

“Yeah,” he’s saying now, “Yeah, yeah, yes,” his words going as incoherent as his movements; whatever stroking he was offering with his hand has gone still, now, his fingers are just clutching desperately around Chikusa’s cock as if he’s trying to use the other to ground himself, or maybe like he’s holding Chikusa still against the force of his forward motion. Chikusa can feel heat rising low in his stomach, can feel the ache of unsatisfied desire stalling against the lack of friction at his cock, against the tension of Ken’s fingers too-tight around him; but Ken is pushing closer, and Chikusa lacks the breath to speak, and then Ken growls himself into a telltale low range and Chikusa knows what happens next, is bracing himself against the hurt a moment before Ken turns his head and sets his teeth in hard against the back of the other’s neck. Chikusa can feel his skin give way, can feel a trickle of blood hot against his throat to join the wet of Ken’s mouth against him, but there’s no chance to protest, no chance to react at all. Ken is moving faster, harder, whining a low note of desperation that peaks louder with every thrust he takes; and then his hips snap forward, and he grunts low against the back of Chikusa’s neck, and inside him Chikusa can feel Ken’s cock twitch, can feel the surge of heat as the other spills a rush of come into him. Ken’s orgasm goes longer, far longer than any Chikusa’s ever experienced himself; by the time he lets his teeth go from the back of the other’s neck and pants himself into a full lungful of air Chikusa can feel the pressure inside him, the tension of fullness to match the strain of the knot still locking them together.

“Kaki-pii,” Ken sighs, dragging the familiar nickname low and purring against Chikusa’s skin; when he shifts his mouth it’s to purse his lips and fit the weight of a kiss to the other’s neck. “You feel _so_ _good_.” His hips shift, his legs slide a little wider like he’s settling himself into comfort; Chikusa’s knees slip over the sheets, his thighs ache with the angle, and against his cock Ken’s fingers flex, pressing against him for a moment of tension before his grip eases.

“Want you to come too,” Ken mumbles, the words tangling on the weight of satisfaction in him until Chikusa can barely make sense of them; but he doesn’t have to hear the details after all, because Ken is stroking over him, drawing his hold up into a surge of heat that flickers to a burn all across Chikusa’s body. Chikusa’s spine arches, the air rushes out of his lungs in a huff of sound, and Ken’s fingers slide against him, Ken’s thumb braces against the head of his cock as the other starts to stroke over him with impatient haste. “Come on, Kaki-pii.” Ken’s mouth weights at Chikusa’s neck again, the friction wet and slick now instead of punctuated with the sharp edges of teeth; Chikusa’s shoulders tense, his breathing catches in his chest, and Ken’s grip drags over him, rough encouragement towards the straining anticipation Chikusa can feel forming itself into tremors in his thighs and fluttering strain all across the flat of his stomach. His whole body is aching, his shoulders and the inside of his thighs and deep inside him, where Ken’s cock is still holding his body open around the intrusion; but his blood is going hotter, his heart is beating harder, and he can feel his breathing coming faster in his chest, can hear the sound of it gasping to audibility as if it’s someone else panting for air, as if it’s someone else’s throat tightening the sound of his exhales into whimpering strain. Ken is mumbling incoherence to the back of his neck, punctuating the words with wet kisses and drags of his tongue nearly indistinguishable to Chikusa’s failing attention; and still his hand is moving, is pulling Chikusa forward towards heat and strain and the trembling verge of anticipation that he can’t shy away from.

“Ken,” Chikusa says, speaking before he thinks to and startling himself with the sound of his own voice so strained and tense in his throat. “ _Ken_.”

“Yeah,” Ken says, and he’s falling back into that same rhythm, the encouragement of simple affirmation against Chikusa’s skin as if he’s approaching orgasm again himself, as if it’s his own pleasure he’s pushing for and not Chikusa’s. It might as well be, Chikusa thinks, in the last flicker of coherent thought he has left to himself; Ken’s the one pushing him towards the edge, he has no more control over the situation than he has a chance of pulling free of Ken locked inside him. The tension is building in him, settling low into his stomach and trembling strain all across his shoulders; and Ken’s hand jerks over him, Ken’s fingers drag sensation in their wake, and Chikusa jolts under the other’s touch, his throat opening wide onto a wail of “ _Ken_ ” so radiant in his throat it might as well be pure heat he’s spilling to the air. The strain in his body gives way, the tension knotted along his muscles and at the back of his thoughts snaps loose at once; and for a brief, endless heartbeat Chikusa is lost to the immediacy of physical relief, his whole sense of the world given over to long, shuddering tremors that run through his body with the same helpless response he gave to Ken stroking over him. Ken’s still moving, Chikusa can feel the friction of the other’s rhythm at some distant range, every drag of the other’s hand pulling another convulsive surge of heat through Chikusa’s body; but Chikusa doesn’t try to stop him, and doesn’t try to take back control of his own reactions. He just lets them hit him, lets them wash through him to eclipse the murmur of his own thoughts with the simplicity of pleasure, until finally it’s Ken sighing and letting his hold ease that lets Chikusa collapse to pant for air against the give of the sheets under him. His whole body is trembling, his skin flushed to unfamiliar heat; and behind him Ken is pushing up over himself, is taking his balance back over his hands and knees as he pulls back from Chikusa’s body. His cock catches against the other for a moment, the pressure straining against the resistance; and then he slides free as his softening cock finally eases his knot enough to let them break apart. There’s a spill of liquid in the wake of his movement, a rush of sticky heat against Chikusa’s skin; but Ken is already moving aside, tipping sideways over the bed to fall heavily onto his shoulder over the span of the sheets Chikusa isn’t already occupying.

“Ah,” he groans, his voice purring and resonant with the audible weight of physical satisfaction. His arm falls across Chikusa’s shoulders, his fingers draw up to settle at the curve of the other’s neck. “You felt good, Kaki-pii.”

“You’re too rough,” Chikusa tells him, the criticism stripped down to simple observation by the exhausted flat of his voice and the thrum of heat still languid in his veins. Ken hums nonsensical response and pulls against Chikusa’s neck to urge the other in closer to him. Chikusa tips sideways, his body shifting over the bed in slack response to Ken’s urging, but he makes no effort to help with the movement.

“I’m sticky,” he says as Ken grabs at his hip with his free hand and drags him back across the sheets to press flush against the other’s chest. “So are you. You really should take a shower, Ken.”

“Why?” Ken whines. “I’m just getting comfortable.”

“I’m not,” Chikusa tells him. “I’m sticky and sore. I want to get clean.”

“Just for a minute,” Ken says, nuzzling his face against the back of Chikusa’s neck. His breath is hot on the other’s skin; when he shifts it’s to hook a leg over Chikusa’s hip and dig his heel in against the other’s thigh to pull him in closer. “It feels better with you.”

“For you,” Chikusa says, but he doesn’t move to attempt to pull away, and when Ken’s mouth settles against his shoulder he doesn’t flinch away from the contact. There’s pressure for a moment, the weight of focus behind the friction of the other’s lips; and then Chikusa can feel that ease, can hear the sound of Ken’s breathing going heavy and slow as the other slides into sleep without loosening his hold on Chikusa against him.

It would be relatively easy to slip free after Ken’s grip has gone slack with unconsciousness; Ken can sleep through anything once he’s truly out, and Chikusa has more than enough experience with sliding himself free of the other’s hold to break free and go in pursuit of the shower his sticky skin desperately needs. His body aches, his skin is going itchy with the salt drying along his hairline and at the creases of his knees and elbows; but he doesn’t move to loose himself, even when Ken’s breathing deepens and slows into the soft murmur of snores against the back of Chikusa’s shoulder.

When it comes down to it, Chikusa has never really wanted to break free of Ken’s hold on him.


End file.
